Livain is backing me up boss ;), but close its a beautiful female of startling skill. ;)

Cast: Detect Magic - Scan tarp for 3 rounds

Perception1d20 + 10 ⇒ (20) + 10 = 30

Min's eyes narrow at the strange tarp and his gut told him something dangerous was at work here. He waved Livain back towards the door and held his ground for a moment, once he was sure she was just outside the door he spoke. "There's Lionheart colors underneath, I am going to regret this... Livain stay back and don't enter unless something happens." He raised his buckler in a defensive stance, hoping to reflect whatever could be coming. Don't Remove the tarp, these bas#$%@s have a bad sense of humor.

Aylaeth was in her element. Not since her days as a student at the University had she been so enmeshed in pure research, discovery and cogitation. The problem and challenge of discovering the purpose and function of the machine was as difficult as the size of the installation itself, perhaps more so. As had always been her habit when working on a difficult problem, she talks to herself out loud.

"But that doesn't make sense. How can...unless? Yes! That must why the..."

"Ada'an, do you remember, what am I saying, of course you do, my second year Ancient History of the Conjuring Arts class, wasn't there of mention of..."

"Mai! Have you seen this?? This can't signify what I think it does, can it??"

"Damn it!" swears the Magus in frustration "That's just plain impossible! Why, even the task of locating the proper frequencies of alignment to achieve such an end boggles the mind. To seek to control those energies...perhaps I'm just not looking at this correctly. Hmmm, I wonder if Devon Kulricks' Theory of Applied Frequency Reduction in Arcane Harmonics would apply in this case? Yes, that's possible for if..."

And it continues on like this, for hours. The historical and religious aspects as they apply to the magical mechanism come fairly easy to her, but the vast and intricate details of the arcane and practical magic aspects give her considerably more trouble. As her understanding and awareness of the unimaginably vast scope of what they were dealing with, and what was at stake, continues to grow, so too does her fascination, professional admiration and personal horror at what this artifact, and the many others connected to it, signified. By the end of their research she was literally shaking with excitement, rage and terror and what it all meant.

Finally, after having checked, double checked and triple checked her findings, and having no remaining doubt that everything they had deduced was correct, Aylaeth turns to her fellow Magus. Exhausted, her face ashen, tears in her eyes, she says in a voice with little hope "Mai, I...what are we to do? That they have been planning this for so long, that they have put, and at have at their disposal, the unimaginable resources needed for all they have accomplished here...The Red Dragonflight is an immensely greater threat than I, than anyone has even begun to imagine. No one knows of any of this...no one knows...what are we going to do?"

As she finishes speaking, she looks down at the journal in her hand. Clutching it tightly, her lips firm ever so slightly in grim determination.

Damian responds to Aylaeth's rhetorical question. "We get word to Izmir. Na-Calanon and General Merit need to know about this. As vital as our quest to recover the Abominations is, it will be of little help if the Dragon God returns." He sees her hope waning and puts a hand on her shoulder to steady her spirit. "The future is not written, is it? No battle is truly unwinnable. No war can be lost until one side's morale breaks. I will never stop fighting, and I expect no less from those that I command."

He turns back to the crude map they have made, their positions mapped in relation to Izmir and Stormfare. In his discussions with the Warbanians, it is clear that their position is too far for overland travel to be a practical choice. Teleportation would be their sole option, though the children and prisoners make that a similarly impractical option. Besides, their previous trips via the Dragon Gate and the Singers were both wrought with difficulty. "We must return to Stormfare. The information we possess can be used there, as good as if we returned to Izmir. How much magic would such a trip require to take all of our number back? As distasteful as it is, is there any way to harness the power of this place?"

Maiathreen studies his section of wall occasionally dropping back down to the ground to compare notes with Aylaeth, who frustratingly seemed to spout out every thought in her head...yet never finish what she was saying. Often asking a question only to answer it herself or never finish the asking.

He can't help but feel a bit of professional admiration at the sheer scope of those project even with the realization of its purpose. As he studies the arcane sigils and algorithms, a recent event comes to mind. In fact it only happened a few hours ago.

...Servais, you still think you fight for freedom, but this I swear; if you persist on this path, Kalaroth will come and the underfolk will be destroyed or subjugated just like the overdwellers. You can't see beyond your greed...

-Servais....tell me truthfully...did you know about this engine? You said the confluence would give you the energy to free the Shadowguard...do you know how to use this?- Maiathreen telepathicly communicates to Servais, this time hoping for an answer and not silence or hidden meanings.

@Min and @Livain: Eighteen seconds. It takes eighteen seconds, under the best of circumstances, for a magic user to get a solid read on the location and strength of any given magical auras in their range. The two of you feel every one of those ticks of the clock float slowly by as Min focuses his detection spell on the tarp.

In the first several seconds it becomes clear to the Tuathan scout that there is magic under the tarp.

In the next several seconds, the dragonrider is able to detect that there are actually multiple auras lurking under there, at least three, though two are far, far more powerful than the others.

As his concentration approaches the 13th second, Min can feel an onrushing of arcane power, pure magical force hammering at his mind.

You see a bright flash of light in the shape of tall, white, spectral...man? Elf? The figure is at least 7' tall, probably more, and extremely thin and clad in white robes. He -- or it -- glows brightly. You see this vision for barely a millisecond and it is gone.

Min grunts in pain and drops to his knees, the arcane glow of magic around his eyes is suddenly cut off. His whole body heaves and for a moment it appears as if he is going to vomit. Min is made of sterner stuff than that, though, and gains control of himself. Slowly he raises his head, giving it a couple shakes, as if to clear it. Nothing else in the room moves. Nothing else makes a sound.

Min only:

You have no idea what that was, but you know that there is some kind of powerful magic item(s) under there.

As distasteful as it is, is there any way to harness the power of this place?"

The answer is no, for two reasons:

1. This place has no power; you stopped the ritual before the liquid could reach all the victims, so the power this place was built to harness and store never got released. This is a battery with no acid, basically, and no charge. Useless.
2. Even if it did have power, you do not know the cipher spell. Without that, you cannot utilize this or any other Red Dragonflight arcane engine.

::Could you possibly be anymore vague? Are we not partners? If you want to free your allies I need to know more. You can't expect this to work if you hide everything from me.

Do you know why Villicent said me and Livain reek of shadows? This has been bugging me since we fought him. Please Servais there are so many things we do not know, and I know you know more than you let on....:: Maiathreen asks in an attempt to get Servais to finally help.

Diplomacy:1d20 - 1 ⇒ (12) - 1 = 11
This is all happening before Aylaeth reveals what we discovered. Since it is a 15 hour process.

Min spits to remove the metallic taste of the feeling of bile in the back of his throat to avoid gagging again. He rises slowly, warily, watching the tarp and shaking his head to rid himelf of the powerful feeling that crushed him mere moments ago.

"Something powerful is under that tarp, I had a vision of an tall elf but I'm not sure they were an elf... Whatever items are there are more then I can identify."

it would be hours yet before the maguses were free to aid them, so throwing caution to the wind he whispered quietly under his breath. "Hope for the best." With that said he quickly tosses the Adamantium blade towards where Livain is, disarming himself before grabbing the tarp and throwing it open. I fear no darkness.

You are looking at a decent-sized painting; perhaps 4' x 3'. It is a simple landscape, at first, just some rolling fields, albeit under a suspiciously dark and foreboding sky. Suddenly that sky comes alive, the clouds roil and churn and undulate. There are flashes of lightning and the canvas completely changes...

...to show your death, as it happens, right before your eyes. You are falling down from an impossible height, next to a steep cliff of rock. There is snow. Lin is beside you. Great rends in her wings prevent her from flying. In your hand is some kind of magical healing item, but you cannot reach her to use it. She begs for your help, but you cannot help her. Suddenly you slam into a spike of rock on a small ledge and are stuck. The momentum of your fall causes the spike to gut you, ripping from your abdomen up to your sternum. As your heart beats its last, you watch your companion, your bonded one, as she falls to a miserable and ignominious death on the anonymous rocks below. As her body hammers into the ground, the bond is severed and you die cold and utterly alone, stuck on a rock on a mountain, where your corpse will freeze and terrify anyone else who may come this way.

It is a terrible death, and shakes you to your core.

You have gained the Panicked condition and must drop anything you're carrying and flee the painting. This condition will end when you are 100' away. You cannot enter this room again for 24 hours. You will remember exactly what you saw, and it will haunt you all your days, but you cannot tell anyone what you saw, not even Lin. You can tell others you saw something horrible, and warn them to stay away from the painting, but that's it.

Livain ONLY:

You are looking at a decent-sized painting; perhaps 4' x 3'. It is a simple landscape, at first, just some rolling fields, albeit under a suspiciously dark and foreboding sky. Suddenly that sky comes alive, the clouds roil and churn and undulate. There are flashes of lightning and the canvas completely changes...

...to show your death, as it happens, right before your eyes. You are falling, your wings torn to shreds by thousands of arrows. You land in a twisted and broken heap on a cliff ledge by the ocean. Your husband rushes to help you, but his black blade explodes into a twisted mass of shadows and rises up before him -- Servais Unchained. As you lay there helpless with your back broken, you can only watch as Mai's magic fails utterly against the massive and powerful shadow-thing that is Servais, and it devours his soul, carelessly throwing the empty shell of your husband's corpse aside to land near you. He has time only to whisper your name before he dies, shattered and ruined. Before you can react in any way you are lacerated by a hundred tiny blades; children -- little orcs and kobolds and gnolls, the children YOU rescued, are stabbing you hatefully, singing songs about your death. Looking up as the pain overtakes you, you see Kalaroth grinning down from the sky, his head as big as the world. In agony, alone and broken and shamed, you die.

It is a terrible death, and shakes you to your core.

You have gained the Panicked condition and must drop anything you're carrying and flee the painting. This condition will end when you are 100' away. You cannot enter this room again for 24 hours. You will remember exactly what you saw, and it will haunt you all your days, but you canNOT tell anyone what you saw, not even Maiathreen (or Min). You can tell others you saw something horrible, and warn them to stay away from the painting, but that's it.

Livain eyes widened and she could feel her heart in her throat. Her blood drained her face and the taste of metal laced her tongue as fear overcame her. She suddenly dropped anything that was in her hands and ran as fast and as far as she could from that loathsome room with it’s vile painting. She suddenly had a new found deep disdain for art, children and Servais. Livain was not one to be shaken but she was thoroughly rocked. Tremors weaved through every muscle and her pupils stayed in a constant state of shock. She mumbled things to herself for a moment and started pacing back and forth like a mad woman. The look on her husband’s face when he drew his last breath and uttered her name was branded in her mind for all eternity. The death of her brother seemed palatable compared to what she saw in the painting. She could almost feel each little blade jab her as the children danced around her. She felt every emotion etched upon the surface of that canvas. Was it real? Was it an illusion by magic? Everything began to spin and she felt the contents of her stomach come forth from her quivering lips. A cold sweat poured from her brow and she could feel the world spinning underneath the soles of her feet. Never had she felt such a deep sense of terror, not even when she was besieged as a child at the hands of her torturers. The images kept playing over and over in her mind. They plagued her like a vulture taunting its dying victim by looming nearby.

The impact knocked the wind out of him and he collapsed on his side. His injuries were forgotten the pain in the bond was all encompassing. He failed.

NO NO NO NO NO! VEARA!

His heart lurched painfully in his chest, she was gone he had failed, he was useless. USELESS! With his dying breath he swore revenge, cold bloody and merciless revenge...

He closed his eyes accepting his foolish fate, his pride ending all that he loved...

Then the moment passed, he was back. His body intact, laying on the floor of the same damned fortress he had been searching. He rolled over and pushed himself to his feet, he shot out the door and slammed into the wall his Elven armor rattled like never before. His heart was beating so hard and fast that it threatened to break open his chest in its hurry to escape the terror the painting had revealed. He ran down the hall at full sprint, ever muscle straining to get just one more foot out of each long stride. By the time he reached the end of the hall he was laboring to breath, he was breathing to hard and was having a harder time catching his breath.

He slammed into the wall, his shoulder cracked with the impact, yet he didn't stop not one beat as he tore his way into the first hall leading to the red X.

AS he reached it he ran his hands over the wall, his mind scrambling on how to make it work, he had to get away, he had to make sure she was still alive. THe bond was dead, inert in this place, had it happened? Had he been saved? WHAT THE HELL WAS GOING ON! When he touched the X, nothing happened. "NO! GODD*(*&^! WHY WON'T YOU WORK!" He pulled back and tried to draw his mothers sword, intending to cut his way through, but he couldn't grip it. His hands were shaking so bad that he couldn't even draw it. Will I fail her too? Lead her to her death because of my foolish pride? He balled his hands into fists so hard that his knuckles cracked, every muscle strained and flexed as he looked at the wall in a panicked rage and despite his shoulder pain he raised his fist and...

Slammed it into the wall, his knuckles cracked beneath his gauntlets as he threw everything he had into the powerful punch. "NO! He punched it again. "I WON'T LET IT HAPPEN!" Tears ran down his face as his fists rained down on the X over and over again, leaving bloody prints from the impact and dribbling blood on the floor to mix with his falling tears. His lungs burned, heaved and struggled for air as he channeled all his panic, rage, grief and despair into his foolish attempt to force the broken doorway into working. "I WON'T... I WON'T... I WON'T! WON'T! WON'T!" His hands were bloody wreckages by the time anyone could come to stop him and he resisted being pulled away at first but his shear exhaustion and the fact he was hyper ventilating made such resistance short lived. He looked at those that assailed him, trying to scramble away but unable to, he looked at them with tear filled eyes taht were still wide with a memory he could not explain. With a fear that drove him mad with anguish!

As a darkness started to dim his vision he gripped whoever was closest and tried to warn them. His sanity coming back to him between images of the horrible fate he caused. "The skeletons... SO white... So wrong! ... I shouldn't have touched the Tarp! SHOULDN'T HAVE TOUCHED! Lionhearts colored pride... MY FOOLISH GODDA&* PRIDE! DON'T ENTER THE... Room... the painting." He was fading, blood loss, fatigue and grief were blacking out his vision his eyes rolled back into his head. His muscles strained and he convulsed hard as his mind tried to command its body as it failed. "Don't look... don't look at it... Iom... forgiv... m..." His words slurred, he struggled as he started to slip into unconsciousness slinging his blood on those trying to help him. He didn't understand them, he didn't care and sighed as darkness fully overtook him.

Taking the pain of his failure and misery away...

Stopping the images that would haunt him for every waking moment of his life...

Damian's voice echoes through the fear and terror that grips the Tuathan dragonrider. The face of the Captain comes into stark relief as he grabs hold of Min. Damian's grip overpowers his own strength. Damian may not look as strong or powerful as the Warbanians, but the strength of his arms are supplemented by the strength of his will. "Min! Calm down! Calm down!" It takes more than a few moments to drive the terror out of Min. If Lin were here, it would be far easier. Damian's clarion and commanding voice pull Min back to a normal state.

While Maiathreen comforts and calms his wife, Damian listens to their somewhat -confused stories. It is clear that whatever they saw in the room terrified them beyond reason. After a brief conference with Aylaeth about the possible magical source of the fear, Damian marches straight to the room.

Perform: Oratory1d20 + 15 ⇒ (16) + 15 = 31

Damian stands in front of the door, closed in Min and Livain's terrified fleeing from whatever lurks inside. He steels his spirit with his words, speaking to himself and those who followed. "Fear... Fear has a grip on our hearts, our minds, our spirits. All people fear, from the bravest paladine to the kindest children. Years ago, my father told me that courage is not the absence of fear. Courage is conquering of fear. I am afraid, friends, but I do not tremble to do what must be done." Damian unsheathes his sword, glowing with the holy power of his goddess, and rams it into the stone floor. It sinks into the ground easily. With confidence, Damian opens the door and steps through the threshold.

He gazes upon the uncovered painting, not tearing his eyes from it. He sees a great red dragon, the same one who swore vengeance upon him over Izmir. The dragon's fiery breath shreds the armor off, turning it into a melting molten slag dripping down his skin. His shield falls uselessly to the ground, hardly more than a smoking shell. Behind him, Keythan screeches in horror as the fire consumes him completely. Damian falls to the ground in horrible pain, unable to pick himself up. He looks into the sky, a black and toiling nightmare horizon, and sees Brook and Sarish flying away from the dragon. As much as they try, they are no match in speed for an adult red dragon. The dragon catches up quickly and seizes the squire's mount in his terrible maw. The red dragon shakes his head, tearing Sarish into two smoking pieces. Brook falls through the air, his screams of terror audible to Damian on the ground. He hits the ground with a horrifying thud. The dragon lands and laughs terribly as the fiery breath covers and consumes him. It is a horrible death, and shakes him to his core.

"No! I do not submit! I trust in Iomedae!" With a shout, Damian casts aside his fear. "I WILL NOT QUAIL IN FEAR! I AM STRONGER THAN FEAR!"It The terror fades from him, pushed to the back of his mind. He stands proudly and courageously as he fixes his steely gaze upon the painting.

Can/Are Mai and Aylaeth be around for any of this? Or would they still be wrapped up in the studies at this point?

This does indeed happen while you and Mai are working your butts off in the rune room, and kinda far away as well. It's empty and echo-y, though, so let's say this: make a DC20 Perception check and I'll handwave that you (and Mai, if he wants) hear Min yelling about something and then Captain Lamorak replying, and can wander out and be all like "What the heck is the matter?" if you want to. There's no reason your study time can't be interrupted, I mean, you're gonna take breaks to eat and stretch and whatnot.

ETA:Also, looks like Captain Lamorak consults you directly, so even if you miss the Perception check to get involved early on, you'll be involved a bit later anyway.

Maiathreen runs straight for his wife when he hears both her and Min's return."Livain! What...what happened to you? What's going on are you alright sia itova?" Maiathreen asks worriedly as he holds and tries to calm a frantic Livain who continually grabs at his clothes and for some reason kept pulling back from Servais.

He holds her close and wraps his wings around the two of them like a leathery cocoon, shutting themselves off from the rest of the group. He sings softly to her in draconic his voice a soothing baritone blocking out all other sound.

A hundred days have made me older Since the last time that I saw your pretty face A thousand lies have made me colder And I don't think I can look at this the same But all the miles that separate Disappear now when I'm dreaming of your face

I'm here without you baby But you're still on my lonely mind I think about you baby And I dream about you all the time I'm here without you baby But you're still with me in my dreams And tonight it's only you and me

The miles just keep rollin' As the people leave their way to say hello I've heard this life is overrated But I hope that it gets better as we go

I'm here without you baby But you're still on my lonely mind I think about you baby And I dream about you all the time I'm here without you baby But you're still with me in my dreams And tonight girl its only you and me

Everything I know, and anywhere I go It gets hard but it wont take away my love And when the last one falls When it's all said and done It gets hard but it wont take away my love

I'm here without you baby But you're still on my lonely mind I think about you babyo And I dream about you all the time I'm here without you baby But you're still with me in my dreams And tonight girl its only you and me

Although deep in her research and investigation, the chaotic and panicked yells of Min and Livain and the comfoting and commanding voice of Captain Lamorak manage to pierce the magus's focused concentration. Rushing out into the next room, the Syplh is dismayed to see her winged friend and the normally fearless Min reduced to such a state of terror.

Consulting with Damian on the possible causes, she marches right in behind the brave Captain, his voice and presence inspiring even greater courage in her.

Will save: 1d20 + 8 + 2 + 2 ⇒ (18) + 8 + 2 + 2 = 30

Her will like unto iron, the Sylph Magus briefly feels the immense power of the painting thrill through her, but like a mountain standing firm against the crash of the sea, her will is unmoving, and she stares at the artifact, seeing it for what it truly is, her scholar's mind attempting to understand, catalouge and define it. She also consults with Ada'an to see it the angel has ever heard of anything similiar before.

As some kind of powerful magic buffets you and slaps at your mind and will, you watch the clouds roil in the painting. Lightning strikes out of the painted storm clouds onto the painted field. There is the briefest glimpse, here in the room with you, of a very tall and thin being clad all in white, and glowing white. Their features are completely hidden by a halo of bright white light around their head and their hair is long and flowing. It is impossible to tell if it is a male or female. This spectral vision appears for just the smallest sliver of time and is gone, and when they disappear the magic assault stops, and the painting is now showing just simply a beautiful landscape, albeit with rather surly-looking stormclouds approaching; it is a picture of a rolling field of golden grain in which some kind of small, brightly shining creatures are cavorting about in the sun. The field in the foreground shines the brighter for the darkness approaching in the background.

As you are looking, you hear a sound behind you, like creaking leather and rattling...rattling...BONES!

You spin around, expecting the worst, and sure enough the skeletons are moving, but it's not the movement of animation; they're just shaking a bit. Standing next to them are 13 ghosts, ghosts of dwarves. All look as if they were quite strong and hardy in life, with well-used tools on their belts and axes on their backs. Their arms are corded with thick muscle, even in the astral plane, and their beards and hair alike are full and lustrous and thick. They are all glowing a faint blue-white.

The leader -- the shortest of the bunch but possessing keen eyes and huge, broad shoulders -- steps/floats forward. It is obvious he can see you. The skeletons have stopped moving. With a voice that was clearly once a mighty bellow but is now diminished for having crossed into Pharasma's realm, he speaks to you:

"WELL IT'S ABOUT DAMN TIME SOMEBODY HAD THE SPINE TO GET ME OUT OF THERE! THERE'S WORK TO BE DONE! Now who the hell are you two? Where's my son?!"

While both you and Ada'an have certainly heard of magical paintings -- even encountered one, once, though its magical effect was only used for modest entertainment via a ribald parlor trick involving an ass and three turnips -- neither of you has ever seen or heard of anything like this.

Servais' voice comes bubbling up again somewhere in the back of your mind, this timing ringing with ferocity; ::MAGUS! I AM NOT YOUR ORACLE, TO DISPENSE INFORMATION AT YOUR BECK AND CALL!:: The anger fades quickly, though, and the black blade sounds both contrite and tired beyond measure in his next utterance, though you note he does not apologize. ::...i am contained in a chasmal rend, below the plane of shadow, left of Abaddon and four right turns from Chaos and you do not know the agony it takes for me to cross the infinitude of the planes in order just to speak with you...::

::...maiathreen, i answered clearly and truthfully; i do not know what this is, nor do i know how to use it. why would i? i did not make it, and i know nothing of those that did save they are our enemies...it is true the confluence, if it happens, would release enough power to free myself and the other shadowguards, but I...I confess I do not know exatly how...to learn that we must go to a very dangerous place, and seek hidden lore...the Night Market in the Center City of Mamban. That is where one can purchase a secret, if the price is right.::

Servais' voice fades as he speaks this next, his voice getting farther and farther away in your mind and eventually becoming inaudible. ::...i do not know what the devil meant...but i could guess...it has something...to do...with your tattoos...::

Min never felt so weak as he sat with his back against the wall, eyes closed and reliving every brutal moment of what the painting had revealed. He was a joke, a cosmic joke. The Warbanians said nothing, for which he was thankful but they also were keeping a close eye on him as the panic worked its way out of his system. His hands and shoulder were hurting bad but he remained silently as the pain helped to distract him from the memories.

He shook there for awhile while Damian and the others went to the room, he had tried to warn them and, even now, he didn't trust himself to speak. He wanted the bond to thrum, to show a sign of her presence, but nothing happened. He had heard stories of Dragons and Riders who lost there bonded ones and were to grief striken to continue living...

He took a deep breath, it had to have been an illusion. What if it wasn't ? It wouldn't end so easily. Of course it can, like an elk who never saw the hunter draw his bow... He'd find her, or her body if he had too. For now he hoped the others had fared better then they had...

As Ada'an reports back to her, Aylaeth quickly casts a cantip, including Damian in it's magic, and then whispers to him. "The leader is not one of them, but Ada'an tells me that two of these Dwarven spirits are evil in nature." and she indicates which ones Ada'an told her were evil, then continues "I shall keep an eye and an ear on your conversation, but I go to further investigate the items under the tarp."

And true to her word, while keeping an eye on Damian and the ghosts, she steps closer to the tarp and begins her magical investigations there.

@Mai: A "chasmal rend", is a tear in the planar continuum that allows material and beings from one plane to leak into another. These are almost always places of great terror and despair and danger and power as things from each plane get sucked into the rend and mashed together to make new horrors that belong to both planes and no plane all at once. Some of the matter that is formed in chasmal rends has properties useful to gods, demi-gods, or arcanists or clerics of great power. Since it is in a proto-matter state it can be formed into anything, or simply sucked dry of its arcane potential. Either way, no mortal that has ever attempted to travel to a chasmal rend has lived, and there are many on record trying.

Servais was clearly a shadow creature of some sort, and seemed to you to be some kind of Nightshade, or at least related to Nightshades. In form he resembled a four-armed, six-eyed, winged Nightwalker.

The first painting, the one that apparently so terrified Livain and Min and tried to do the same to you and Sir Damian, gives off overwhelming auras of both enchantment and divination. The auras are so strong, in fact, that the thing is actively battering at your mind while you try to read its aura, making you a bit nauseous.

Behind this painting is a second one, also of a landscape, though this is a small lake in the foreground and mountains in the back. Same foreboding stormclouds. Behind the second painting is a third landscape painting, this one of a pretty seaside town on a bright sunny afternoon. There are no clouds, but there are some seagulls. Both of these other paintings give off strong auras of both divination and enchantment as well, but the auras, while strong, are much less powerful than those of the first one, and in fact get weaker as you go. The first painting is extremely powerful, maybe even divine. The second is quite strong, perhaps the level of a powerful mage, and the last painting is strong but not extremely so, and seems within the realm for any advanced arcanist to create.

You see nothing about any of these paintings that is different from other magical paintings you've studied; enchanted paints on enchanted canvases, spells rendered permanent. Any subject who gazes directly upon them and lacks sufficient Will will be subject to whatever the painting's precise effect is. No mystery there.

In fact, the only immediately confounding aspects of the paintings are who made them, and why in Abadar's name they're here?

The final item under the tarp is a banner of the Lionhearts, an old order of cavaliers. It gives off a positive enchantment effect, but can only be used once a day.

Once per day, this Lesser Inspiring Banner can be activated with a command word to provide a +2 bonus to attack rolls, skill checks, and saves, in a manner similar to a bard's inspiring performance. The banner's effect lasts until combat is ended, or those fighting under its effects are all dead. It is a standard action to properly unfurl the banner and a free action to speak the command word.

Other than the first painting terrifying people, does she have any idea what they all do?? And if not, how can she find out?

Whoops! Copy and paste fail, looks like you only got the one thing. See below.

@Aylaeth only:

While the most powerful painting is a bit above your pay grade in terms of discerning what it does, the other two, you are able to figure out, are Predictive Paintings that tell the viewer some version of their future. It's a fairly common dodge in the shadier markets of big cities in the land or in traveling caravans to use a painting like this to convince a potential customer they need some useless trinket a huckster or scam artist is selling; basically the painting uses its Divinatory capabilities to pick up just enough info about the viewer to make the vision believable, and then Enchants them into thinking something dire is going to happen.

These paintings, however, are rather more powerful than the low-level scammery normally being perpetrated, which leads you to believe that one of more of them may actually be able to tell some part of the future. At least you're fairly certain the most powerful painting -- the one that scared Livain and Min -- would have this power. The other two might just be really sophisticated Predictive Paintings, maybe used to fool nobility or other less-credulous marks, or something like that.

So, the problem is this; you're quite certain that most of what Min and Livain each saw was false, but you're equally certain some part of it was true, and no one has any of knowing which was which.

Cool, thanks! Does she, or Ada'an, know of anyway to counter the paintings , or to make them inert? And also does she know of anyone to bring them to, an expert on such matters perhaps, that would have a better idea of what they are and just what to do with them?

The expression on her face serious but also pensive, Aylaeth gathers the magical banner and puts it in her haversack for now. Once done with that, she carefully covers the paintings with the tarp once again and then gives her full attention back to Damian and the ghosts.

::Thank you...my friend.:: Maiathreen replies to Servais unsure if the shadow creature can even hear him at this point. ::What exactly am I chained too...:: He thinks for a moment. ::Not that it really matters since I'm already planning on how to get us to Mamban....besides maybe we can learn about the abominations there...::

Damian raises a hand and salutes the ghostly dwarf. The military salute is more formal than a warrior's handshake and likely far more useful when dealing with ghosts. "We are the Skyknights of Izmir's Third Army. I am Captain Damian Lamorak, leader of the company. This is Aylaeth Brely'an. I am pleased to make your acquaintance. Are you of an order? If the Lionhearts, you are not the first of their number that we have met."

Profession: Soldier1d20 + 13 ⇒ (12) + 13 = 25

Even as he greets their leader, he scans the other ghosts to try to learn more about the pair of ghosts Ada'an advised him were evil. Even dead, they will still act as soldiers and he prepares himself to react accordingly. There are additional tactical considerations when the potential enemy can walk through walls. If the evil ghosts are hostile, Damian prepares to act. However, he maintains the hope that their leader will hold them in check.

You've encountered the term "The Great Confluence" in a few places, and it's something many are talking about these days since it's supposedly going to happen in a couple months -- the precise date is unknown.

The Great Confluence is supposedly a time when many arcane and astral bodies, planes, astronomical entities, and other places and things of power will all be aligned in such a way that a tremendous flowering (or renewal, depending on whom you talk to) of Wild Magic will occur. The energy created by this event would utterly overwhelming and plentiful and would be usable by just about any magic user, magic creature, god, demigod, etc.

There are many who say the Great Confluence is a fraud and will not happen, but there are more who say it is real and will. It is a hotly debated topic.

===========================

The Sunderer, as far as you know, is a reference to an elven warrior-princess named Luaera who lived a couple thousand years ago, around the time the Telestari all disappeared into the city of Choban-La (then known as Chobansynyankh). It is said she somehow convinced Sarenrae to strike a gash into the Land with her scimitar, creating what is now the desert of Rass-La and sundering the northern half of the then-powerful kingdom of Rassnynyankh from its southern half, and the desert of Lop below that.

===========================

You have no idea what the "Cities Under" are, and have never heard of the "Queen of Light". Both sound to you like someone else's parlance for other things that already exist, but you're not sure.

@Damian and @Aylaeth: The leader of the dwarves nods curtly, his demeanor is all business. The other twelve ghost-dwarves behind him just float there, watching the exchange. "Name's Beltz Wellrock. Or at least it was. Ain't part o' no order, but time was, I built any damn thing worth building in this land. Now if you got me out, something must need building. Who sent you? Do you know my son, Wolf?"

DC25 K(History) or DC18 K(Engineering):

Beltz Wellrock and Sons is a very famous company name, but only among dwarves and engineers. Beltz and his son Wolf were responsible for building countless forts, walls, fortifications, castles, tunnels, and other things that dot the land. Some are still in use, some are abandoned. It is said Beltz and his boys Wolf and Trin were so skilled that they were the only ones allowed to do repair work on the Great Tower in Stormfare, the outer walls of Izmir, the docks in Mamban and Katapesh, and other famous structures. They supposedly also were the first to fight and drive back the Metallum Aeternum.

@Livain and @Min: The Warbanians have gone through the other, silent door by where the (nonfunctional) big red "X" is, only to find it's simply a stairway leading up and out, the egress being a ways above and to the right of the balcony that Min found earlier. They are taking advantage of the brief lull to perform an air burial for their fallen comrade.

Damian shakes his head with a bit of sadness. He has no knowledge of Wellrock or his son, which is unsurprising considering his focus on the knowledge of military and soldiering. "I'm sorry, I do not. We were not sent here, but rather came across it amidst a battle with the Red Dragonflight, after driving their main force out of the main part of this complex. Did you build this place?"

Aylaeth is quite sure she has heard the names Beltz & Wolf Wellrock before, but she is at the moment unsure as what exactly they were famous for, although from the dwarves' own words, it almost certainly had something to do with constuction . If she wasn't so concerned about the paintings, the knowledge would likely be coming to her more fully.

With said paintings on her mind, she adds to the conversation. Wanting to show respect to the dwarf who was obviously a figure of importance in life, she speaks in his native tongue

Dwarvish:

"Greetings to you honoured elder. As my Captain has informed you, I am Aylaeth Brely'an, scholar and soldier. How is it that you and men came to be here, sir? For it seems clear that your bodies were placed here by another, or others." and she points to the skeletons before continuing. "And, most importantly sir, what, if anything, do you know about this banner and these three paintings?" and she turns to indicate with a sweep of her arm the tarp behind her.

After a brief speech, when Aylaeth turns away to indicate the tarp with a sweep her arm, she uses the message cantrip to whisper to Damian "I merely asked them about the banner and the paintings, sir."

Maiathreen remains close to the now sleeping Livain. A small blanket wrapped over her shoulders as she rests in the sigil room. He can't help bit wonder and worry about just what the two of them saw that scared them so much... He gently brushes a lose strand of hair from her face before rechecking the formula for energy transferance he was using as a referance for the rooms ceiling.

Livain is cast into a restless and empty slumber with only the images of the mirror surfacing her sleeping mind. She sees all the images from the painting in full bloom as they unravel in horrible shades of shadow and anguish. Her body twitches gently as her lips quiver for a moment only long enough to utter a soft mumble and then expel a troubled breath. Her heart's rhythm would pound then subside to a soft beat, her only indication of trouble from her nightmares. Her bodies only signal for help from those lucid dreams that keep gracing her fragile mind. Suddenly she feels a soothing relief as the warmth of a single caress from Maiathreens finger striking her forehead ever so gently in the relocation of a strand of hair. She could feel the warm blanket surrounding her for a moment as she stirred from the touch on her forehead.

@Damian and @Aylaeth: The ghost of Beltz Wellrock nods to Damian. "Aye, sir; reckon I did. I don't remember doing so, and don't recall anything about this place -- bein' dead's rough on the ol' memory, I'm afraid -- but I or one of my work crews musta been here at some point. You can see my signature in the floor stone over there." He points to a low part of the wall where you can just make out what looks like a bunch of random lines, but on close inspection spells out "Beltz Wellrock and Sons" in Dwarvish. If the ghost hadn't pointed it out, you never would have seen it. It also likely would not have mattered.

Aylaeth speaks, then, and the old spectre is clearly surprised at hearing his native language being spoken so well -- and without prompting -- by a sylph. "Aye, well, ye've a pleasant tongue in your head, miss Brely'an, and I thank ye for addressing me in such a way. Manners is gold, even to the dead, and I'll tell you that for free." He gives a small, polite bow in return, but his face is troubled when he straightens back up.

"Unfortunately, I fear I can't much help as I was hopin' you'd have answers to the same questions -- I thought you'd released me from a gemstone prison, and that this was the City Under The Mountain, but I see now that's not the case, and it disturbs me. I don't know anything about no banner or paintings; I died fighting the Metallum Aeternum and made a deal with the Inheritor to be cast into a gem, to rise at the call of the Awakener and fight the Metallum again when the time came before I took my final journey to Pharasma's land. But now, here I am, with my best builders, in some other part of the world...I guess?" He shakes his head in dismay. "Something very strange is happening here."

The Sylph smiles in appreciation of the master builder's compliments, but her smile quickly fades with the rest of his words, especially the mention of the Metallum Aeternum. Glancing at Damian, if she gets his nod of permission, she continues her conversation with the dwarf, in Common this time. "Thank you elder, it is a great compliment and I take it as a point of pride to be told that I speak well such an ancient and noble language as the tongue of your people. It is disappointing to learn that you know nothing of the paintings, but there is nothing to be done for that. As for where we are, I am happy to share what little we do know." and she tells him what she knows or suspects so far of their location and as well what she, up to this point, has determined of the magical engine room.

Continuing she says "I find two things both strange and disturbing in what you have told us. One, it is somewhat off that you mention gem prisons, as we ourselves have just recently encountered such. We aided some heroes in taking down a powerful vampire who had set himself up as the Lord of Ormir. After defeating the villain, we managed to find one of his treasure rooms where he had been keeping four beings in large gem prisons. Namely a Wyverling, whom we freed but know nothing about, a Katapeshi merchant looking fellow, a very athletic elven woman in all-black clothes, and a skinny demon of some sort. Does any of this by any chance ring familiar to you?"

Before giving him a chance to answer though she continues "Most disturbing though is your mention of the Metlallum Aeternum, for we Skyknights have have had several recent encounters with that substance, or being." and she explains to him what she knows, and what the other Skyknights have told her about that strange metal.

"So anything that you can share with us about what you do know about the Metallum Aeternum would be most helpful to us. And as well, anything that we might be able to do to help you in your sworn mission to fight the creature. But, before you answer Master Wellrock, I wonder if I might have a quick word with you in private? It is a matter of some importance but will only take a moment."

If he agrees:

If the dwarf agrees to a private conference, the magus will first try casting the Message cantrip again and including the dwarf in on it this time. If that doesn't work, she gestures for him to follow him to the far corner of the room. Either way, once she can have as much privacy with him as possible, she lets him know about her angel familiar identifying three of his workers as being evil.